


the breakup timeline

by itsnotgillian



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, kind of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 19:50:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8460763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsnotgillian/pseuds/itsnotgillian
Summary: “I’d like to think that we’re better versions of ourselves.” “And if the universe would give us another chance, then maybe this time, we can make it work.”(They broke up, but there's more to it than just the pain and the tears.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> please don't expect much out of this, it's quite literally just word vomit
> 
> but my otp is giving me all kinds of unwanted emotions so hahaha #getrektgillian
> 
> inspired by a combination of a lot of things, namely, when we were young by adele, stay by blackpink, and #walangforever, one of the few filipino romcoms that i actually like

Chan hadn’t expected to see him. At least not here, in the dance studio he worked at. And definitely not this soon. 

“Hansol?” Chan asks, the two syllables almost too painful to say out loud; two syllables that brought about a tidal wave of Chan’s past. 

He hopes it’s not him, he wills his mind to think that it’s just someone who looks like him, because it _can’t_ be him. The Hansol he knew was in America. The Hansol he knew left him in a flurry of frustration and tears, swearing to never come back. The Hansol he knew was a distant memory, a mirage conjured every now and then in Chan’s mind as a reminder that he existed at some point in the long, winding road of his less-than-ideal life. 

But he’s stepping forward, standing directly underneath the light, and Chan’s breath catches in his throat. 

It’s him. 

It’s him, exactly the way Chan remembers, but somehow, also completely different. 

It’s his eyes, the same brown irises Chan had looked into for years. But they’re not as bright as Chan recalls. 

It’s his hands; Chan is sure they’re as calloused and warm, but they’re hidden away from sight, shoved deep into the pockets of his bomber jacket. 

It’s his hair, dark brown and untouched, like before, but it’s messier, unkempt, as if Hansol didn’t even bother. 

And it’s his shoulders. Pulled back whenever Hansol was feeling confident, shaking uncontrollably as his laughter takes over his body, and the perfect resting place for Chan’s head during long road trips. 

But they’re hunched over now, like Hansol was trying to shrink down in size. 

And Chan hates it. 

Hates how Hansol’s so different. Hates how he’s so unreadable, even when they’re standing nearly an arm’s length apart. Hates how because of this, Chan is unable to figure out how to react to the whole situation. 

Most importantly, Chan hates _him_. He knows he’s supposed to. Knows he deserves to. 

But Chan was never a hateful person. 

So, instead, he smiles. All crooked and forced and uneasy.

But he smiles. 

“It really is you.” He’s stating the obvious, but it’s all he can do.  

 

`

 

Hansol didn’t know what to expect. He didn’t even know if Chan would be there. 

But he’s there. 

He’s there and Hansol feels like he’s sixteen again. 

Like he’s back on the swings with Chan, the light breeze blowing against their skin as they hold each other by their fingertips. It was after their first kiss and Hansol was practically buzzing with energy. He had hoped Chan was, too. 

It feels like the time Hansol slept over at Chan’s place. It was unplanned, a by-product of spending too much time playing video games. Chan had offered to let him stay over, but Hansol was too shy for that. 

“I can’t. My mom would kill me.” Hansol was just making excuses. He wanted to stay. He wanted to spend the night with Chan, wanted to pull the blankets over their heads while they stay up all night, talking. 

“She won’t if she knows you’re with me.” The way Chan had said it, all hopeful and eyes full of innocence had tugged at Hansol’s heart harder than it should have. 

Hansol couldn’t say no to Chan. He really couldn’t, even if he tried. 

It feels like the first morning after, Hansol’s fingers dancing along the supple skin of Chan’s back, the younger sighing softly into the pillow as he slowly wakes up. Hansol had decided that this was the view he wanted to see every morning for the rest of his life. 

He’s there and it feels like every moment he’d ever spent with Chan is right there, replaying in front of him, in full sensory recall. 

“It really is you.” 

Awkward. 

That’s what it is. Chan is fumbling with the hem of his shirt. His eyes are looking everywhere but at Hansol. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth. 

It’s awkward. Painfully, obnoxiously awkward. 

“Yeah,” Hansol says. He’s staring hard at Chan. _Please look at me. I’m right here. Why won’t you look at me?_  

There’s an even more irking stretch of silence that transpires, and it takes a while for Chan to finally spare Hansol a single glance. 

“When did you come back?” Formal. Chan is being formal. Hansol can practically see him building up a wall between them, which really isn’t all that surprising. 

“Last week.” _And I’ve been looking for you ever since._  

Chan nods. 

Hansol can clearly see that Chan wants to be anywhere but here.

  

` 

 

“Okay.” 

Chan really can’t bear to look at Hansol right now. He can’t take the feeling of being around him. Hansol reminds him of everything good, like stolen kisses at the back of their lectures, and walking through convenience store aisles in nothing but their pajamas. 

But he reminds Chan of the terrible things, too. 

Drinking until he’s passed out and completely fucked over. Throwing up into his toilet, wondering why on earth did Hansol leave him. 

Crying. 

So. Much. Crying. 

It takes so much in Chan to stop himself from crying right now. 

“Why are you here?” 

There. He said it. 

He says it in a way so that Hansol knows that he really shouldn’t have come. 

“I—,“ 

Truth is, Chan doesn’t want to hear it. If he’s being completely honest, he wanted to run away the moment he saw Hansol walk in. 

“I wanted to see you.” 

Chan thinks it’s funny. Hansol could’ve seen him every day, just as he promised, if he hadn’t left. If he hadn’t been so selfish.

  

` 

 

“Maybe we should just break up.” 

Chan nearly doubled over at how utterly _dumb_ the statement was. 

“You know that’s not the solution.” Chan wasn’t going to let that happen. Not when they’ve been through so much. 

“What other solution do we have, Chan?” Hansol’s voice was louder, he was almost yelling. Chan hated it when he yelled.

“You and I want different things. You and I want to be in different places.” 

“That doesn’t mean we have to break up.” Chan was crying. If there’s something Chan hated more than Hansol yelling at him, than Hansol acting like a self-entitled prick, it was crying in front of him. 

Because it meant Hansol had won. And Chan often wondered when it ever became about winning. 

“It does,” Hansol insisted. “Because we barely even make time for each other anymore.

` 

“Okay,” Chan says again. “You’ve seen me now.” 

 _He’s avoiding you, Hansol. Why wouldn’t he? After what you did to him?_

“That’s not what I meant.” Hansol sees Chan grit his teeth as he says this. He really shouldn’t be doing this to Chan. 

But, he’s always been selfish. 

And if fate or destiny or whatever allows it, he’d like to be selfish one last time. 

“We need to talk.” Hansol tries to be firm, but Chan’s already shaking his head. 

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Chan says it like it’s final, like there really isn’t anything to talk about, but Hansol has a fuckton of things to say that he wants Chan to hear. He wants Chan to listen to every word and _really_ listen. To understand just how much Hansol regrets the past year that he was gone. 

“I need to make things right,” Hansol practically pleads. “You deserve that much.” 

“You can’t make anything right out of this, Hansol.” Chan scoffs, and Hansol can see how steely his eyes have become. “There was nothing right about this from the start.” 

It’s a hard blow on Hansol’s part, to hear the only guy he ever truly love say that, as if the last decade they spent together was just a self-fulfilling prophecy of their break up. 

But Hansol bites down on it, lets the venom of Chan’s words seep through his skin. 

“You know that’s not true,” Hansol says. “That will never be true.”

 

`

  

“When _exactly_ did you start liking me?” Chan asked, his head on Hansol’s lap. It’s the ungodly hours of the morning, and both of them just couldn’t sleep (being roommates with your boyfriend has its perks). But both of them also know that they’re fucked since they have early morning classes in a few hours. 

“Are you seriously asking me that now? After almost three years of being together?” Hansol grinned down at Chan. _Beautiful_. Even at 4 A.M., even when his hair is sticking up all over, Hansol still thinks he’s beautiful. 

“I want to know,” Chan answered, simply. “I’m curious.” 

Hansol shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I knew from the beginning that I would always need you.” 

“Yeah, but when was that ‘beginning’?”

Hansol just laughed. 

 

` 

 

“I need to go.” 

Chan can’t take any of this in much longer. His emotions are eating away at him, making him feel a multitude of things he doesn’t want to feel. He walks away from Hansol, determined to put back that distance that separated them for a whole year. 

“Please,” Hansol says, chasing after him. His fingers wrap around Chan’s wrist, and Chan violently jerks back, as if shocked by electricity. 

“Please, I just need to talk to you.” 

Chan’s rooted to the ground. When was the last time Hansol was this close to him? When was the last time he touched him? When was the last time he _touched_ Chan? 

“Please, Chan.” 

Chan looks up, and he gets it. They’re both hurting. They’re both hurting, but for different reasons. 

Chan was the one that got away, and Hansol was the one that let him get away. It’s ironic, because Hansol’s the one who left. 

He doesn’t want to think too highly of himself, but he realizes Hansol had more to lose. He was more emotionally invested in Chan than Chan was with him. 

But it doesn’t mean Chan didn’t care.

He did care. But he was always much more guarded with his feelings.

  

` 

 

It was their first major fight. 

It wasn’t as if they’ve never fought before. But it’s never reached this far. Never this far. 

“Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?” 

Careful. 

Hansol was careful with his words. He knew that one misstep would lead to something worse. 

“You don’t need to know!” 

Those words stung Hansol like a thousand needles, each one of them piercing and burrowing themselves into his skin. 

“Of course, I do,” Hansol retaliates. “I _care_ about you.” 

Hansol didn’t stop there. 

“You can’t just expect me to watch you lose yourself in whatever issues you’re dealing with just because you’re too proud to admit that you _have_ issues.” 

Hansol saw how much his words hurt Chan. He saw it in the way Chan squeezed his eyes shut, hands balled into fists at his side.

But it was okay. Hansol wanted it to hurt.

 

 

` 

 

Hansol knows it won’t work. His begging will get him nowhere.

 _I should just leave_.

_I’m going to leave now._

“You know what—,“ Hansol starts.

“Fine,” Chan interrupts. 

They both look up in surprise and Hansol almost flinches when he realizes just how close they’ve gotten. 

 _Beautiful. Still beautiful._  

“We can talk,” Chan treads on cautiously. “But not here.” 

Hansol nods. He doesn’t want to talk here, either. 

“Where, then?” Hansol can see the beauty marks on Chan’s face. The one on his cheek. The one under his eye. He remembers kissing both of them right before they went to bed every night. 

_Like little stars in the midst of my universe._

_You are still my universe._

“We need to be somewhere private,” Hansol adds. 

Chan sighs, head bowed down. 

“I assume your car’s still in the U.S.?” Chan is fiddling with something in his pocket, and Hansol concludes that they must be his car keys. 

“Yeah,” Hansol admits. Chan nods. 

“Come on. I’ll drive you to my place. But you need to get home on your own.”

 

` 

 

“I can’t believe you agreed to take me out for fast food at 3 A.M.” Chan was bundled up in a hoodie and a thick jacket, the biting cold of the winter air making its way inside Hansol’s car. 

Hansol turned the heat up to the maximum. “What was I supposed to do? Ignore your complaints?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Chan said matter-of-factly. “Because I’m a whiny asshole who needs his boyfriend to do everything for him.” 

“Then, I’d gladly be that boyfriend who does everything for you.” Hansol said, just as he was pulling up at the Mcdonald’s outside their campus.

“You’re whipped, Chwe Hansol.” Chan giggled. “You’re even willing to drive me around in your unbelievably expensive car.”

Hansol leaned over to the passenger seat, catching Chan’s lips in his. 

“I’m willing to do that and so much more.”

  

` 

 

Chan shouldn’t have done this. He shouldn’t have agreed in the first place. He’s tempted to take it all back and leave Hansol at the side of the road, but the image of how Hansol had looked at him earlier stops him every time. 

It’s always the way Hansol looks at him. Like Chan is everything dear to him and so much more. Chan used to love it. Maybe he still does. 

Chan grips the steering wheel to keep his thoughts from straying down that path any further. He’s going to listen to whatever Hansol has to say, and that’s it. 

It takes a little less than half an hour to get to Chan’s apartment, and Chan practically throws himself out of the car the moment they arrive in front of his building. 

He doesn’t even spare Hansol a glance, merely relying on the sound of the passenger side’s door closing so he knows when to lock his car. 

 

` 

 

 _He’s avoiding me._  

Hansol keeps his head low, scowling at how awkward the car ride was, as he follows Chan inside his apartment building. It’s a secluded place, but pristine in all aspects. Chan’s job as a dance coach must pay well if he has enough to afford something as clean and modern as this place. 

The elevator is even worse.

It’s small, enough to fit around five people comfortably at a time, but for some reason, with just the two of them, it feels even more cramped.

 _Maybe it’s the tension, ready to suffocate the hell out of me._  

Hansol presses his body to the elevator wall, eyes still downcast. 

He feels like throwing up.

 

`

 

They were on fire. Both of them. Two stars burning as they collided with each other. 

Chan’s skin felt like melting off under Hansol’s fingertips, and Hansol saw the flames roaring in Chan’s eyes. 

They were igniting each other. 

“I love you,” Hansol said, pushing Chan against the kitchen counter, kissing the spot right where his jaw and neck met. 

“I love you, too.” Chan’s chest ached in the best way possible as he said these words. He gripped Hansol’s shoulders even tighter.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” Hansol had said it with so much love, it sends a whine out of Chan’s mouth. “Please, never forget that.”

Chan answered by pulling Hansol in by the sides of his face, their lips meeting in a kiss that made Hansol believe, despite the fleeting tales of high school loves, that maybe Chan really was the one for him.

 

`

 

There’s something inherently strange about seeing your (ex) boyfriend of six years sitting inside your apartment. As if he didn’t belong there. 

 _He doesn’t_. 

Chan doesn’t even bother with formalities, like offering Hansol something to drink. 

 _He can stay thirsty, for all I care_.

“Talk,” Chan commands. “Talk and get it over with.”

Hansol looks up from where he’s seated on Chan’s couch. Chan tries to get past the lost puppy look Hansol is giving him. 

“I—,“ Hansol breathes in. “I was an idiot.” 

“Did you come back to tell me things I already know?” Chan can’t help it. He never talks to anyone like this, but Hansol just might be the first. 

“I’m sorry.” Chan didn’t anticipate just how fast Hansol had stood up, and before both of them know it, Hansol’s holding on to Chan’s arms.

Chan blinks. The proximity sends his heart hammering in his chest. 

_He still wears the same cologne._

_His eyelashes are even longer._

_His eyes are still beautiful._

“You can’t expect me to just forgive you after what you did,” Chan whispers, and it bothers him how intimate it all feels, as if the things they’re saying are only meant to to be shared between the two of them.

It’s scary, because they used to share everything.

“Can you blame me?” Hansol lets go of Chan. Chan crosses his arms.

“Of course, I can. And I will.” Chan turns away. “I was holding on to us, trying to keep us together, but you left as if none of that even mattered." 

There’s a pause. Then Hansol answers. 

“If I had stayed, we both would’ve been stuck.” 

Chan’s head snaps in Hansol’s direction. “Are you finally admitting that I held you back?” 

“That’s not what I meant,” Hansol insists. “We wouldn’t be who we are right now if I didn’t leave.” 

“No shit.” Chan’s more than mildly annoyed. In fact, he’s angry. 

“I would’ve been happier. _We_ could’ve been happier.”

 

`

 

“So, what’s your plan after graduation?” 

Chan stretched on his bed, his glasses nearly falling off the tip of his nose. He readjusted them before answering. 

“Sleep. For a month. Then maybe audition for a few dance companies.” He beamed over at Hansol. “I’m already inquiring.” 

Hansol beamed right back. “You can do it. You’re mad talented.”

“How about you?”

“Me?” Hansol thought about it for a second. “I might start looking for producers to apprentice for.”

Chan hummed in acknowledgment before returning to his laptop.

“Am I gonna be part of your plan?” Hansol asks. 

Chan looked at Hansol as if the latter had gone insane. 

“Of course. You’ll always be a part of my plans.”

 

` 

 

It hurts to hear these words from Chan. Every doubt he had with himself is being confirmed. He _is_ the asshole he thinks he is. 

“But, the timing wasn’t right. Think about it.” Hansol tries to protest. He knows it’s probably futile. “Why can’t you just admit that we cared more about ourselves than we did for each other?”

“How can you say that?” Chan rushes forward. Then he stops when he’s right in front of Hansol. 

“I cared about you. _So_ much. I didn’t show it as much as you did, but you know I would do anything for you.” 

Chan is crying.

Hansol is crying with him. 

“Are you saying that those years of friendship, those years of being together, were all a mistake?” Chan grabs the front of Hansol’s shirt. He stays like that, clutching it in his fist like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. 

“No,” Hansol says tearfully. “Those years are what made us what we are now.” 

“I’d like to think that we’re better versions of ourselves.” _Better and wiser._ “And if the universe would give us another chance, then maybe this time, we can make it work.”

Chan stares up at him through his tears. And all of a sudden, Hansol is being pushed away. 

Chan closes his eyes and breathes in through his nose. “Being left alone was the worst thing to ever happen to me.” 

Hansol walks over to Chan and takes both of his hands. Chan doesn’t fight it.

“I’m here and I’m never leaving again.”

Chan opens his eyes and Hansol looks straight into them like he used to for so many years. 

“I still care.” 

 

`

 

“I like you.” 

Chan had frozen up the moment he heard these words from Hansol. He never expected him to say that, but at that moment, he also felt stupid for not noticing the signs earlier.

All the times Hansol had treated him to ice cream, and all the times he offered to walk Chan home, even if it meant going out of his own way, and all the times he’d surprise him with gifts, even on days without any particular occasion. He should’ve seen it in the way Hansol would hold his hand when they take the bus to school. He should’ve seen it when Hansol wished for Chan’s happiness last New Year’s Eve. 

He really should’ve seen it.

“Are you gonna say anything?” Hansol peered at Chan, his eyebrows knitted together in worry.

“I—,“ Chan felt it even before he could say it. 

“I think I like you, too.”

` 

“I still love you.” 

Seven years later, and Chan still feels it.  

 

   

“I still love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm really unsure about this so feedback is greatly appreciated;;;;


End file.
